Oh, Willow Smith, I just enjoy you. I love that you hang out with Tyler the Creator even if a part of me finds it wildly troubling because I believe that you'll eventually make something awesome together. Something weird and artistic that exactly you two would cook up. I especially love that despite being young you have this oddball conviction and confidence that allows you to shrug all disaffected-style about shaving your head. That you'd then to take that peach fuzz and liberally apply bleach to is so ballsy, given that your wee, tender scalp must have burned like crazy. The whole thing's sooooo BOSS.
What do y'all think? I mean, is there anything about this striped sweater, massive Peter Pan collar, enormo specs look that you'd alter in the least? She looks so pleased with herself. Happy. And even when Willow's sitting in the dark, trying out poses for what may be the inside album art (LOL, what's inside album art?) to her 1970s homage LP that is surely to be her third or fourth album, she looks great. Maudlin. Real. Blonde. Rad. Thumbs up. I'm into this. This is what dressing with little regard to being found conventionally attractive looks like. And the end result is damned fetching.

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